More Interesting
by PizzaAndBeer
Summary: Ivan makes his traditional wishes as the clock reaches midnight of the new year and they begin to come true a little quicker than he had expected.


Hi, guys! A glorious new year to my most beloved fandom!

This fic was brought to you by Mountain Holler (unfortunately diet), cheese crackers, insomnia, and the fact that I didn't bring my Xbox home for Christmas.

**Some Background Info:**

I recently learned that wish making is part of the Russian New Year's celebration, as well as the American one. They make a wish at midnight, the same way we might make a resolution. But sometimes they write it down and burn it. Then they place it in a glass of champagne and drink it. I know it sounds a little gross, but also magical. It makes one think, that by drinking the wish, that it will become a part of you and you will have no choice but to pursue it. My brother and I gave it a shot this year, though we used blackberry wine, it was pretty fun. Ivan, of course, is going to use vodka.

Anyway, enjoy!

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><p>Ivan had been a solitary being in a vast snowy field for what felt to him equivalent with all of time. If there ever really been anything before him in the cold north of Eurasia, he couldn't recall it and he could never foresee another name upon the vast, icy nation. These long cold years of seclusion had taught him too well how to keep company with himself, so that though he did occasionally reach out a hand in friendship, he mostly keep them shoved in his fur lined pockets. He did so desire the love of the other nations, his people, and his rulers. But it simply couldn't be borne for too long, the company others, or their very breathing seemed to begin to burn him like the glorious sand of the beaches in Feliciano's land. How he had marveled at the beauty of them every time he had been blessed enough to look, but soon the eternal glare was too much for his fair eyes and he'd gone running back to the blessed chill and evergreen forest that were the dwelling place of his heart. It was there, in his hand crafted log home, that he would be seeing in the dawn of the 2015th year since the birth of the Christ child. This was the way he felt most at peace: alone with none but the great, snowy wilderness and his own thoughts.<p>

He'd kept his home high up in the mountains, for the last 200 years. Before that, it had been in an isolated valley, near a small village. But modern technology made it easier for him to live well alone and still have access to all he could need or want. With his own helicopter, Ivan could go do business in another European nation and still be back in time for bed. Though the house was old, he had kept it well renovated, doing most of the work with his own hands. It had electric lights and warm running water powered by generators, though he still preferred to heat the rooms by fire and to cook without such modern nonsense as microwaves. The surfaces were all still rustic, mostly wooden. No one came to this place but Ivan. When he lived among other people and nations, he did so in his capital mansion. This is also where he held world meetings, when it came his turn to do so. Ivan never really felt at home in the capitol house, despite it being his oldest now. When one has grown so used to the idea of isolation, home can never be such a crowded place. He'd spent the last week in the capitol, before he had retreated to the mountain. The blessed quiet was like a love song to him. He was finally alone, done pretending to care what his boss thought, done attempting to curb his dark thoughts to this century's edition of political correctness. He could think things out now, attempt make peace with his over-worked mind. As a matter of fact, it was the time of year for one of his favorite thought settling rituals.

It was 11:15 pm when he settled on his bear skin rug by the fire. He had killed the bear himself, using nothing but a hunting knife. Whenever he looked at it, he could feel the beast claws in his side, see the blood rushing from its torn throat. It had been a good fight, looking back it brought him a pleasure. As he settled upon the rug for the evening, he stroked long his fingers through the soft fur. He was clad in a blue cotton robe that hung open over his bare chest, white sleep pants, and thick wool socks. His hair still dripped from the shower. Before him were his carefully chosen supplies: a packet of green post-it notes, a black sharpie marker, one large bottle of vodka, a crystal drinking glass, a matching crystal ash-tray, a box of fancy cigars with the red bow that Belarus had fixed on them at Christmas still in place, and a silver lighter.

_"Ah Bella" _he thought, popping the bow off the box and slipping the cigar between his lips "_If_ _only you could just accept the love that I am willing to give". _ He wrote that on the first post it note, crumpled it up, and set fire to it in the ashtray. He lit his cigar off the blaze. It was hard with his sister. He wanted her to love him, but not so much and her constant attention was trying to his nerves.

_Bella will love someone else more _he wrote on the second sticky note. He burned it as well, adding it the tray.

"How many years have I written that"He wondered idly, dusting the ash of the end of his cigar into the fire. He hadn't thought out not wanting to mix the ash with his wishes and was too lazy to walk the couple feet to the kitchen in search of another container.

Belarus had wanted to come with him again. He had said no again. He hated saying no to her, she had a temper to rival his own and it was an ugly note to leave her on. He hated the ugliness between them always. He just didn't get why she couldn't just be a good girl and act how he expected her too. Girls were meant to listen to their brothers. It made him itch to show her who was boss, give her a good smack across the face. But he tried not to listen too much to that part of his mind these days. Being strong enough to bend others wasn't the only way to get what you wanted in the modern world and it certainly wasn't the way that would win you friends. Bella might turn on him under such rough discipline and he really couldn't bear the thought.

He almost missed the Berlin Wall and having proud Gilbert crushed under his soviet policy, but then again the man was loud and selfish. He put a huge drain on Ivan's limited social energy and he'd rather not have to deal with him so closely anymore. It seemed all he'd done for years is listening to Gilbert bitch. Sure, it'd been fun to fight him. There was nothing so fun in another man as a love of the fight and Gilbert had wanted one every chance he got, unlike the sheepish, little Baltics. He was fast, stealthy, and always angry. But ultimately the Prussian was too small. Despite how he could almost never see Gilbert coming before that first punch to the jaw or chair to the back or the knives he'd begun to resort to near the end, he always caught him. All it took was to get his weight on top of the other man and he couldn't get away. But he preferred battle to disciplining the already defeated and Gilbert had only been an angry hostage.

_Bring me a good use of my strength, an enemy worth breaking _he wrote on the second note, setting it ablaze as fire danced brilliantly just a moment and died. He glanced at the old, hammer-bell clock on his mantle. It was now 11:35. He dusted his cigar again and filled his glass to the brim with vodka, drinking it straight down and relishing the warm feeling as it spread from the center of his chest. He glanced down at the tiny pile of ash.

_"But surely that isn't all I want"_ he thought, lying back on the rug, arms extended out to his sides, cigar hanging from his lips. His other sister came to mind. He hadn't seen her for the holidays this year, due to tension between their nations. He mentally added her presence to his list of wishes, though he didn't quite want to sit back up and write it just yet. He missed her, but he wondered if she missed him. After all, she was so much easier to be with than him. The other nations sought out her company.

He felt bad feelings, slowly understanding it as jealously. He wanted to attract others the way she did, without even trying. He thought about wishing away the jealousy, but he knew that wouldn't do. Outside forces could not curb his own mind. "_Perhaps, I should wish to gain her kind of appeal" _He thought, yet he knew instantly that it wouldn't do. He didn't want to be soft and charming. He wanted to be hard and fierce. He wanted to people to like that, to love it even. That was what he would wish for. "_But how would I write that" _he wondered, running a large hand through his silky white hair.

Ivan sat back up, took the notepad in hand and added his wish for his elder sister. He then sat it on fire. It was 11:45 then, only 15 more minutes until the New Year. He tossed the half finished cigar in the fire. He rose to his feet and began to pace the room, notepad and maker in hand, trying to find the words for exactly what it was that he wanted. Part of him wanted to give up and avoid the question as it was causing him some discomfort, but it was even worse to feel like he didn't really understand himself. Finally the words began to fall into place.

_"I want" _he thought, writing as he did "_to be wanted". _It sounded tacky to him, but it was true. Still, it wasn't the whole truth.

_"For being as I am" _he added, grimacing at how sappy this was getting.

He paced around for a few more moments, flipping the idea around in his head. It was still missing something, still not specific enough. Then he realized it, technically he already had this wish. This was the way Bella felt about him and yet it wasn't what he wanted because he didn't want that from her. He wanted to agree with the other person's feelings for him. He added that to the note reading it aloud to himself.

"I want to be wanted for being as I am by someone who I want" he said aloud, it made him feel foolish and brought the pen to the surface to mark it out, but he couldn't. Grudgingly, he set fire to it in the ashtray. It was then 11:58. He poured the ashes into his glass and filled the rest with vodka, watching the pieces dance until the clock struck midnight. He drank it all down in one gulp, feeling the warmth spread through him again. This time, it seemed just a little warmer as he imagined the wishes fusing with his being. He lay back on the rug and closed his eyes, recounting the words he'd written to himself. This was how he fell asleep.

Knocking at his door woke him. This was highly startling as no one ever knocked on his door in the mountains. He rose quickly and glanced out the window. He was even more shocked to spot a petite form in a pink cloak, holding a large basket of sweets, illuminated under his porch lamp. The face was hidden. He thought about not answering. But he was too curious about how such a frail thing managed to get so high in the mountains. There was hardly any snow on it's black leather boots.

"Greeting, stranger" he said opening the door. "How is that you come here"?

"Oh" a small voice replied. The visitor shifted the basket from its clasp hands to its left elbow and used the spare arm to pull the hood from down. Russia was shocked even further. It was none other than the tiny nation of Liechtenstein.

"I'm sorry. I forgot that you might not be able to tell" she explained, looking for just a moment at his face and then back down.

"What brings you here"? He asked in wonder. He wasn't sure they'd ever spoken four words, considering her brother handled all of her business for her. She may well have been the last person on earth he would have thought would visit.

"My big brother and I were sitting by our window, we saw you flying home and since you live so close by our border, I thought that it would be kind to wish you a happy New Year. I've brought a gift" She held out the basket, still looking at the ground. Her cheeks were stained red and he thought her adorable.

"Would you like to come in"? he forced himself to ask, taking the basket from her hands. The contents smelled wonderful.

She looked hesitant for a moment and he feared rejection. But she nodded. He led her into his living room to sit by the fire. It was then he noticed that his robe was untied, he quickly pulled it back together, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. She removed her cloak, throwing it over the back of his sofa. Underneath she wore cute blue dress with lace at the collar and sleeves. She sat stick straight, ankles crossed, hands clasped. He couldn't help but smirk at her image of perfection, thinking Switzerland must have been very hard on her about her posture. He purposefully sat back on the rug, stretching his legs out at a relaxed angle, trying to contrast her as much as possible. It was then he noticed he ashtray sitting empty by the glass, realizing he'd wished for company to come.

"_But Liechtenstein…." _He wondered. _"Surely, she is only being a sweet child"._

_"_Thank you for this" he said, placing the basket between them and nodding towards it. She only nodded back. She was fidgeting with the lace on her sleeve and couldn't seem to keep her eyes in one place.

"What would possess you to come out so late, little nation" he asked, carefully watching her face. There was that same cute blush as at the door. He was growing quickly fond of it.

"It's New Year's and we're neighbors, isn't that enough" She asked. But he easily detected the skip in her voice, like when Lithuania was afraid to tell the truth.

"And what did you tell your brother" he asked, knowingly. She looked momentarily ashamed and he almost regretted asking. But then anger glazed over the shame and her cute, red painted lips twisted in a completely unfrightening scowl.

"I didn't tell him anything. He's gone to bed" she replied, tapping her little foot on the floor.

"You're amusing when you mad" he noted, smiling. She looked annoyed at the statement. He liked it and continued to prod her with questions. "Why use scary Russia to spite you brother, though. Surely, Germany or Austria would have worked just as well and then you wouldn't have had to come up this cold mountain to talk to such a cold man… say, how did you come up here"?

"You seemed more interesting" she said simply. He was rather ashamed of the pride he felt in that comment. "If I am to do what I want, why not choose the most interesting option. I flew as you do. Switzy insisted I learn to fly, just as he insist about everything else.

"You can fly, I must say I didn't expect that. You know, a lot of the older nations haven't picked that up yet" he complimented and she smiled at him, making him feel warmer than the drink or the fire.

"You look very pretty tonight, too" he added, still watching her carefully. This time the blush came to her neck. "You may come to me to spite your brother whenever you like. Tell me, does he frown on drinking" He inquired, holding up the vodka bottle.

"Oh, yes" she replied happily, sensing that he had taken her side and looking less tense. He poured her a very small glass, handing it to her. She wrapped both dainty hands around it. He noticed charmingly childish, glitter polish on her nails.

"Do you know how to make a Russian wish" he inquired.

"No" she replied "How so"?

"Come, I will show you" he offered, holding out his hand to her. She took it, her own not being half the size of his, and he pulled her gently down to sit by him on the rug. He offered her the notepad and the marker.

"You write it down first, then we'll burn it, and you'll drink it with you vodka" he explained.

"You drink burnt paper"? she asked, looking a little skeptical.

"Not even an hour ago" he assured her. She looked at him closely for another moment before she nodded.

"I suppose I believe you" she conceded and began to write. Curiously, he leaned in to look. But she pulled away, hiding the note behind her back.

"Why be so secretive" He inquired, trying to look around her. He was close enough to smell her perfume. It was like candy and he liked it. She bounced up and ran to the other side of the room. He noticed her breathing was quick. He liked that he'd had that effect so easily. It was growing obvious just how she found him more interesting than the others.

"Very well then, write over there" he conceded, looking down at the rug. As she did, he wondered if Switzerland was to be the worthy fight that he had asked for the new year to bring him.

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><p>I really do like this :) It makes me want to play with this paring more.<p>

What did you think? I love to hear from readers! You could be my first review of the new year!


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